Mad World
by Phoenix-KaZ
Summary: A song-fic following Claire after her escape from Raccoon City. Rated 'T' for implied thoughts of suicide.


**AN: Okay, another songfic. Thought I would take a change of pace and write about a different character! This time it's Claire! I tried to think about what could have happened to her after Raccoon City and how it affected her decision to fight Umbrella, but my knowledge of RE2 is limited to Darkside Chronicles. I think I did okay anyways. **

**Rated 'T' for thoughts of suicide.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Resident Evil or the song _Mad World_. I'm pretty sure the song is written by Gary Jules, but I also like the Alex Parks cover as well.**

_All around me are familiar faces  
>Worn out places, worn out faces<br>Bright and early for the daily races  
>Going nowhere, going nowhere<br>_

Raccoon city was a nightmare come to life. Claire recognized the faces of her old friends, kids she grew up with, people who knew her since she was a baby. And now those same people were reduced to glorified, shambling corpses, who only thought of her as another meal.

The city was a wreck. Buildings were being consumed by fire, and blood painted every surface. The sleepy, Midwestern town was bearing more and more resemblance to a disturbing surreal, yet modern piece of art as Claire ventured inwards. She entered the city with slow, purposeless steps; the shock was the only thing that carried her forward.

_Their tears are filling up their glasses  
>No expression, no expression<br>Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow  
>No tomorrow, no tomorrow<em>

Very few emotions passed through Claire Redfield when she thought of Raccoon City after the outbreak. When she thought of Sherry, tears would well up in the young woman's eyes, wondering where the little girl was now. Claire didn't think about Leon much. Nevertheless, expressions ceased to show on the Redfield's face. She perceived the world differently now, wary of every dark corner and narrow space. PTSD was a very heavy burden.

Many times, the young Redfield wanted to give up, but her strong will would not let her. The Redfield family was made of survivors. Claire's brother survived betrayal and a terror-filled mansion, hell, even her mother had fought off breast cancer! Claire was bound and determined make it out of the infested city alive.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
>I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take<br>When people run in circles its a very, very  
>Mad world, mad world<em>

When civilization righted itself again, Claire returned to college. She needed a place to collect herself before searching for Chris, and frankly there was no reason to waste the resources provided by the university. Upon her homecoming, Claire was referred to a capable therapist, not because she needed someone to understand, but because she wanted to release some bottled up emotions. The redhead felt her fellow students were alienating her after what happened in Raccoon; the lingering stares of her peers made her temper itch. The nightmares of Raccoon made it worse; in those dreams, the only way for her to find relief was if she died, otherwise the dream would continue. Claire would laugh at the dreams in the morning, but at night, she was scared to fall asleep.

But even with the therapist's help and a prescription of pills to help her sleep at night, Claire felt like her thoughts were going nowhere. "Of course everything is a rat race," Claire muttered angrily, enraged at the beuraucratic red tape that had been drawn over the Raccoon City incident while she watched the news, "those politicians can't have the truth get out and then come back to haunt them."

_Children waiting for the day they feel good_  
><em>Happy birthday, happy birthday<em>  
><em>And I feel the way that every child should<em>  
><em>Sit and listen, sit and listen<em>

Christmas passed with little interest. It was impossible for Claire to be happy after what she had experienced. Her father died of natural causes shortly after her mother passed away from a second round of cancer. Plus, her brother had mysteriously vanished off the map, so Claire had no family to turn to. Buying a nice pair of riding gloves as a present for herself didn't ease the wild thoughts in her head one bit. So Claire spent the two days of Christmas by herself, sitting in her dorm room quietly staring at the wall, lost in thought, talking to no one except her therapist.

_Went to school and I was very nervous  
>No one knew me, no one knew me<br>Hello teacher tell me, what's my lesson?  
>Look right through me, look right through me<em>

Once Claire was deemed "mentally stable" she was permitted to return to class. Despite her recent experience among monsters, the Redfield was frightened at the prospect of returning to the classroom. Nevertheless, she entered the hall.

She was late; the heads of the students swiveled around at once, fixing their sights on Claire. The Redfield felt the symptoms of PTSD kick in and reminded herself to breathe as she found an empty seat, listening to the other students whispering things about her. Even though she tried her hardest to focus on the lesson, Claire could feel herself going through the motions of her old life, and it didn't feel right,

When she approached the professor after class to discuss her absence from class, the teacher only saw her as a trouble student, not a survivor of a traumatic ordeal. He lectured her about the work she would have to make up, but the words passed through Claire's ears. The young Redfield was staring into the distance, ignoring every other word the professor said. To him, she was just a name followed by a set of marks in the grade book, not a person.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had<br>I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take  
>When people run in circles its a very, very<br>Mad world, mad world, enlarging your world  
>Mad world<em>

It became Claire against the world. The government was spewing lies to cover up Raccoon City, and Claire's therapist was probably convinced that the girl was delusional. Her peers continued to treat her like an outsider or a charity case. Girls that Claire wouldn't even dream of speaking to invited her on shopping trips or outings in town. The redhead became reclusive and hid in her dorm room whenever class wasn't in session. Large crowds made her nervous, sick people too; one wayward sneeze would infect everyone else on the campus. The T-virus acted the same way. Soon, Claire stopped attending class entirely, spending days in her room. Depression accompanied the PTSD, and the Redfield even considered swallowing the remainder of the sleeping pills and putting an end to her misery.

But Claire was a fighter, a survivor. "This isn't my world anymore," she realized as she looked out the dorm's only window, "but people like Chris and Jill are fighting for it all the same." Somebody had to reveal the truth about Umbrella, and if the survivors didn't, then who would? "I suppose it's my turn," she thought. And with that, Claire made the choice to attack Umbrella. But first, she had to find her brother, having heard Chris had gone to Europe to uncover information on Umbrella. Paris would be a good start.

**AN: There we go. There's more going on in this songfic. I filled in a bit of Claire's college life, and also wrote some back story for the Redfield family. Most of the stories I've seen mention the parents dying in a car crash, causing Chris to enter the Air Force. I decided to do something different. **

**As usual, review!**


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